and i wake to the sound ofa child shrieking of hematoma,severed vessels in tiny necks,the pain of a thigh that has separated,and fused, and separated again,of bruises in an endless rain of blues,of breathed-in vomit, chokinganger, walls, and snapping ribs.

the helplessness of soft bonesthrown like sacks of garbageat a red brick rage. but